


"Come here, let me fix it."

by Wrathofscribbles



Series: No.  No.  And no. [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 11:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16911777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: Children need hope in times of war, too, Luna.





	"Come here, let me fix it."

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stopmopingstarthoping](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/gifts).



> **Big bold reminder that Final Fantasy XV and all of its content is property of Square Enix.** I just like to play in the sandpit they've created for the fans.

It shouldn't surprise Luna that the city's heart and soul falls in love with him, welcomes him with open arms as it never has with the Glaives, not after his first week wandering the streets and stalls and parks and back alleys.  There's nothing to  _hate_ about Nyx when he gives all that he has, when he hides nothing, and it's no doubt difficult for the classist stains on society to look at him and think "Galahdian mutt" when he lets his magic loose so freely, green and gold streamers flowing from the complicated patterns he weaves with his hands and soothing away every hurt and bruise and cut and illness plaguing whoever in the general populace is in range.

The Oracle gives without expectation, without demand of payment or thanks, willingly steps outwith the Citadel's security to associate with royalty and council and banker and labourer, the young and the old, rich and poor, natives and immigrants.  It shouldn't surprise her that Insomnia falls in love with this different side to the scrapper she remembers from Tenebrae.  But is it his  _magic_ she wonders as a little girl runs up to him for help despite her mother's protests, or is it his charm?

"Come here," he says when a ragged teddy bear is brought out from her backpack, hunkering down to her level and folding his legs under his ass, "let me fix it, and tell me what happened."

"We really don't want to waste your time, Oracle, sir, my apologies for -"

"No apologies necessary," Nyx cuts her mother off with a smile, carefully taking the bear in hand and turning it over this way and that to assess the damage.  It just looks like a missing arm to her, but Luna never really did play with teddy bears when she was a child.  Maybe she's missing something.

"It all started," the little girl begins, dropping down beside Nyx with all the careless ease of a child sheltered from the horrors beyond the Wall, and Luna settles in for a long wait, turns her attention to the other occupants of the park and every suspicious bag and conversation and phone call, the body language, the chatter of birds in the swaying branches above and beyond.

The likelihood of someone attacking the Oracle in an adoring city are slim but... Luna can't take chances, can't lower her guard.  The world already lost him once, and in times of war she can't overlook anyone, not even a seemingly innocent child and her mother.  That, and Selena would never forgive her if something happened to her big brother on Luna's watch.

* * *

Magic comes to her as a flame in her palm when she feels the spark of something  _else_ in the air, the charge that makes her teeth itch, pivoting in the direction of the phantom call - only to find Crowe Altius coming around the bushes, sweeping dust from her jacket.  "Miss Altius," she says in greeting, dismissing her fire, and Crowe tips her head in acknowledgement, a glimmer of amusement in her dark eyes as she moves to Nyx's side and procures a medikit seemingly from thin air.

A delighted child's cry in her ears, Luna looks back to where Crowe appeared from, curious and suspicious in turn and there if she unfocuses her gaze, a shimmer in the air so easily missed, a glimpse of fur the colour of smoke and an amber gaze alight with something inhuman and chilling.  But when she blinks it's gone, though Crowe remains, and the fine hairs at the nape of her neck settle.

"Don't worry, your teddy won't feel a thing while I heal him.  I've done this plenty of times before and haven't had a single complaint!  So, first, we use a little magic to put your friend to sleep and keep him numb to any pain, and then Crowe will get a needle threaded, and then if you want you can hold your friend's other hand while I reattach his arm?  That sound good to you?"

"He won't feel it?"

"Not a thing, I promise."

"... Okay."

And so they settle, Nyx hunched over the bear in his lap and hand held up for the needle Crowe feeds with brown thread as Luna draws closer, curious despite herself, utterly charmed as Nyx keeps his word and green petals of light settle over button eyes, the attached arm held in both the little girl's hands, her eyes wide and watchful as Nyx gets to work.

"Just gonna start sewing now, okay?  I'll be as neat and precise as I can so there's minimal scarring... would you believe I've had this done, myself?"

"Really?!"

"Yep!  If you ask Crowe she'll probably tell you I'm too careless for my own good... but shh!  Don't go asking her," he leans in close even though he doesn't lower his voice and the little girl cranes up to hear him better as he winks over her head at Crowe, "because she'll tell you  _all_ the embarrassing stories about me and we can't have that, can we?"

"No!" the little girl cries and even Crowe laughs, reaches out to ruffle brown curls, so at odds with her usual seriousness and deadly quiet.

"You're cute, kid."

"Am not!"

 _Distraction_.  They're distacting her and keeping her eyes from the dance of needle through fabric, from the fuss of Nyx's fingers with stuffing determined to fall out of the hole in the bear's body, from panicking over her "friend's" wellbeing as Nyx makes quick work of stitching it back up again.  But one particular story catches Luna's attention and her head swivels so fast it's a miracle she doesn't snap off her neck.

"You dive off cliffs?"

"I  _did_ , my god.  I haven't in years."

 _Cough._ "Airships."   _Cough_.

_"Crowe."_

_"Nyx."_

The lunatics stare at each other in loaded silence for a few minutes, up until their small charge starts giggling, her entire body shaking with them until she lets go of the bear's arm to wrap her arms around herself instead.

"See?  I did say she'd tell you all the embarrassing stories.  Don't follow my daft example, yeah?  I think your Mum might kill me otherwise."

"I won't!"

* * *

It surely doesn't take long but it feels like a lifetime before Nyx holds up the teddy for their perusal, waving both of its arms to the squealed delight of the little girl.  A lifetime of traded words and talk of school days and asking if the girl's friend would like his own friend ("well that's  _fantastic_ news because I have a very good friend, Carbuncle, and  _he_ knows the moogles, and I think one or two of those moogles would make very good friends for your teddy, what do you say?") and repeated warnings to keep the troublesome adventurer away from doors from now on.  A lifetime of potential ambushes and the sensation of eyes watching them even though Luna can't find a single pair when she looks, and looks, and looks, circling them and changing vantage point but... no-one's there.  One of his Messenger guardians, perhaps?

"What do you think?"  Nyx asks, only to throw himself over in ridiculous fashion when little arms are thrown around his neck and the girl crashes into his side with as fierce a hug as she can give, a hug he  _gently_ returns.

"He's all better!  Thank you thank you thank you!"

"You're very welcome, kiddo.  Now scram, go have fun, tell your friends.  And  _avoid doors!"_

"I will, I promise!  No more Sunny getting hurt by them - Mama look!  Look, he's all better!"  The tiny canonball of a kid launches at her hovering mother and Luna follows Nyx's silent cue for them to vanish like shadows in the night, linking her arm through his when he offers it, ever the gentleman.

"So."

"So?"

"You heal stuffed animals, too?"

"Of course.  Children need hope in times of war, too, Luna."

He says it so simply, so  _easily_ , that she finds herself floundering for something to counter with, a reply or  _something_.

"You get used to it," Crowe says, grinning as though she knows  _exactly_ how Luna feels.

* * *

She never does get used to it.

Not when he tells her of a childhood spent always running after Selena and pulling her out of wells and trees and trouble.

Not when he risks the wrath of the sea goddess a second time to save a boy from the churning waters around Altissia.

Not when they return to Insomnia years later and a woman with brown curls and a daughter of her own reunite them with poor old Sunny, and the moogle that appeared beside him on her pillow the morning after Nyx healed him.

How  _can_ one get used to such a big, warm heart that never stops surprising, never stops caring?


End file.
